Sariah screamed the moment her eyes fell on Rhonda’s dead body. She tried to run, but Mom and I formed a barrier in the doorway, blocking her misguided attempt at escape.
Sariah sobbed, choked, and screamed again. “Oh my gosh, what happened to Rhonda? Help, help, help! Somebody get me out of here!”
“We need to shut her up,” Dad cried as Sariah continued to shout and shove at me and Mom. “What should we do?”
Melvin darted forward, a weapon held at waist height but disguised by his jacket. All I could see was an ominous bulge along with the manic rage splashed across his face, but from the way he postured, I was sure it had to be a gun under there. “Quiet, or I’ll give you a reason to be quiet.”
Oh my gosh, this was wrong on so many levels. A very big part of me wanted to tie Melvin up and stash him somewhere so he couldn’t cause any more problems.
But then Sariah stopped crying and started confessing everything.
Chapter Fifteen
“Everyone calm down,” Dad said in a patient, measured voice that must have been so hard to keep, given the current circumstances. He bravely stepped forward and inserted himself between Melvin and Sariah, daring either of them to continue acting out. “There’s no need for things to turn violent.”
Melvin stepped around dad and narrowed his gaze on Sariah. “There is, if she doesn’t start talking and fast.”
“That’s not ne—”
“He wasn’t supposed to hurt her!” Fat tears rolled down Sariah’s cheeks and onto her sweatshirt. “You have to believe me. I didn’t know he was going to hurt her.”
“Who?” I asked from the doorway, anxiety ripping the words from my throat. If Melvin shot at Sariah, the bullet would likely tear into me, too. I so did not feel like dying today.
“Who wasn’t supposed to hurt her?” I asked again when she failed to answer.
Our witness cried so hard she staggered forward, barely able to keep herself on her feet.
Mom draped Sariah’s arm over her shoulder and guided her over to the bed. “C’mon, sweetie. It’s okay. You’re safe with us.”
Melvin followed, his weapon still threatening from beneath his jacket. “That’s right. As long as you keep talking, then you have nothing to worry about.” I wanted to bonk him on the head. Couldn’t he see that he was terrifying everyone around him?
Dan twisted the lock on the door, then looked to my father for guidance, who crossed his arms over his chest and took up sentinel at the room’s one exit point.
It was like we were billiard balls. All of us suddenly rearranging, bouncing into new positions, staying near the edges of the room. I moved close to where Rhonda still lay splayed across the floor. That way, every time Sariah spoke to me, she’d be forced to glance upon her dead half-sister. It wasn’t to be cruel, but rather to keep her honest and remind her how much was at stake here.
Not just for her, either. For all of us.
“Who wasn’t supposed to hurt her?” I pressed again, keeping my voice kind and hopefully free of judgment.
Sariah sniffled and shook her head. Perhaps we needed a more indirect approach to ease her into talking.
“You know, I met her,” I said with a far-off smile, even though the past I was remembering had only happened several hours prior. “We sat together for a while in the dining car and talked cats.”
Mom handed Sariah a tissue from her purse, and she blew her nose into it. “That sounds like Rhonda all right.”
“I thought you weren’t close,” I pointed out, again trying my best not to sound accusing even though Sariah had for sure played some part in the crimes that had happened aboard this train tonight.
She shook her head and balled the tissue in her first. “We weren’t, but I follow her online. That’s how I recognized Grizabella.”
The cats. I hadn’t noticed where they’d gone.
“Over here,” my tabby called from near the bathroom, either reading my mind or sensing the worry that crept up on me when I realized I’d lost sight of him.
I turned toward him and smiled upon spotting him unharmed and unafraid.
Grizabella, however, stared at Sariah with fierce, unblinking eyes. She needed the answers, needed to know why this horrible thing had happened to her mistress.
“You said he wasn’t supposed to hurt her,” I reminded Sariah again, approaching my follow-up differently this time. “What was he supposed to do instead?”
Sariah shook her head and peered at me through red-rimmed eyes. Apparently, my sudden change in questioning had thrown her. “He was only supposed to take what’s ours. That’s it.”
“And what was that?”
“The necklace.”
The image of that beautiful piece of jewelry flashed in my mind’s eye. Pearls, gold, amazing craftsmanship, but worth killing for? Not to me.
“The family heirloom?” I asked.
“Yes, she was wearing it tonight. I saw her when she came off the train to speak with us at the Bangor station.”
That’s right. I knew I’d seen her on the platform. With Sariah here, all the pieces were finally starting to feel like they belonged to the same puzzle. Soon we may even be able to discern the picture. I suspected I knew what happened next but asked anyway. “What did you talk about?”
“We asked for the necklace back. She never should have gotten it.” Sariah balled both of her hands into fists, then let them go, looking at me with equal parts anger and sorrow.
“I’m guessing she said no.”
“He barely even got two words out before she turned away and ran back for the train.”
“Then what happened?” I asked.
All the others in the room remained quiet as Sariah and I continued our conversation. They all needed to hear this, too.
She turned to Mom and addressed her answer there. “He said that one way or another the necklace would be ours, and then we followed her onto the train. He knew she would say no, so we were already ready with the tickets.”
“And what was the next part of your plan? What were you supposed to do after she said no?”
“Not my plan. His. I was supposed to find a way to stop the train in the middle of the night so that he could pay her a visit and take the necklace back. Then we were going to meet in the viewing car and exit together from there.”
“But you’re still here,” I pointed out with raised eyebrows.
Sariah faced me once more. “Yes. He never showed up.”
Desperation clawed at the edges of my brain. I so badly wanted to know who the he in Sariah’s story was, but there were other details I needed to find out first—rather than risk her breaking down again.
“Why did you both want the necklace so badly?”
“It rightfully belonged to us. It had been passed down for generations, long before our ancestors ever settled in America. Not only is it worth a fortune, it has sentimental value, too.”
“So it’s a family thing, but you said yourself that Rhonda was family.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited, hoping my words had the incendiary effect I wanted. If so, they could blow this whole thing open and finally get Sariah to reveal the identity of her mysterious partner, the he.
“No.” She closed her eyes and her cheeks turned red, but still she spoke. “Her family took everything from us. And it was a cold, hard slap to the face when Father gave the necklace to her instead of one of us.”
I didn’t say anything, hoping Sariah would volunteer more on her own. When she didn’t, someone else stepped in.
“How did her family hurt yours, sweetie?” Mom asked from her spot beside the sobbing witness. Most of her tears had dried up now, however, anger taking their place.
“When I was five, my father left to start a new family. He said he had fallen in love and the lady was pregnant, so he had no choice. But he did have a choice! He just didn’t choose us. He left and he took everything from us. All of the money and privilege that should have been our birthright went to the new family, went to Rhonda. So, when he told me his plan to get our necklace back, of course, I wanted to help. Wouldn’t you?”